


Airheart

by deadeyeboy



Category: Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 00:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2793848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadeyeboy/pseuds/deadeyeboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is an anomaly. One in a million. A man out of time. </p><p>Tony Stark is an anomaly. One in a million. A man without wings. </p><p>It's only natural that they'd meet somewhere along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Airheart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OneSmartChicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneSmartChicken/gifts).



> This is my late gift for Smartchicken on Tumblr for the Stevetonyfest! It's the first not-PWP I've written in a very long time. I hope you like it! 
> 
> Also, if you don't think Steve Rogers would do that two-periods-following-each-sentence-in-a-text-message thing that all dads do, you are Wrong
> 
> This universe isn't cut-and-dry 616, more like a random mishmash of stuff I like.

He didn't have wings. That was the very first thing Steve noticed when he shook Tony Stark's hand. His shoulders were strangely bare and naked despite the fact he was wearing an obviously expensive three piece suit. 

Steve might have been more shocked if he weren't still numb from waking from the ice, or bone-achingly tired from bolting awake drenched in sweat each and every night. Still, his own wings, tawny grey in color and speckled black here and there, rubbed together soothingly, as if making sure they were still there. Tony seemed to notice, his eyes narrowing slightly.

But, no wings. That didn't just happen. Certainly, people lost wings all the time in accidents, but if they were unable to be reattached, they were to be replaced with prosthetics immediately. Those prosthetics had come such a long way since the clunky wood and metal ones of Steve's era; even the most basic ones of today allowed the user flight. The point being that if someone lost wings, they were replaced, no exceptions, often free of charge. A body would feel lost without them, after all.

Tony had no wings. No wings at all.

"Born without them," Tony offered, having noticed Steve's staring. He was grinning, albeit tense around the edges. 

"I...see," Steve managed, something like horror rising in his stomach at last. Tony's grin sharpened, predatory. "I mean. That's..."

"Freakish? Grotesque? You can tell me just what you think, I've heard quite a lot of adjectives in my time."

"No! Just...different, is all." Tony seemed to soften at that somewhat, and he gave Steve's hand a friendly squeeze, which was when Steve realized he was still holding Tony's. He flushed, dropping his arm. 

"I'm a man of the future, after all," Tony continued, eyes lighter than before. "Why should I need clumsy things of flesh and blood when I've got mechanical marvels like the Iron Man armor at my disposal? I could outmaneuver you in flight any day, Cap." His tone was playful, teasing. 

Steve had to grin at that, albeit a lopsided, still-bewildered grin. Tony gave him one in return, practically oozing confidence. Steve was a little in awe - Tony owned his difference, his winglessness; flaunted it, even. 

"We'll see about that, Mister." 

: : :

Meeting Tony wasn't even the strangest thing to happen to Steve in the weeks following his recovery from the ice. Visiting his own memorial certainly contested for first place in that category. It was a large marble statue of him in the dead center of Cypress Hills. He was posed climbing over the lip of a trench, chest thrust forward, wings unfurled- it was all very heroic. They had made his chin too strong, made his nose too straight. Steve stared up at the unfamiliar eyes squinting fiercely through the helmet's mask. 

Honestly, when he'd been told about the memorial, he'd considered asking if maybe they could take it down, or- or maybe move it somewhere else, where it wouldn't stand imposing and overshadowing the countless other graves of soldiers who done their part just as much as himself and had only thin white headstones to show for it. But in the end he was an artist, who could spot with his serum-enhanced eyes each and every painstaking detail that had been set into the marble by laboring hands; he'd never ask for the removal of art simply because it made him uncomfortable. 

Besides, he could appreciate the symbolism - that's what Captain America was, after all, a symbol - and the statue didn't look all that much like him anyway. His fingertips brushed over the inscription in the plinth of the statue, pausing on the words A TRUE HERO. He set his mouth grimly.

"Welcome back, pal," he muttered to himself, as heavy clouds drew across the sky. 

: : :

At one of their subsequent meetings, Tony gave him a cell phone with his number in it, and once Steve got the hang of it they grew to be fast friends. They texted (Steve _adored_ texting) and called each other often, whether it was to shoot the breeze or to discuss team matters or to invite the other to hang out. Steve genuinely enjoyed Tony's company, often inviting him to train or to go to the museum or any of the so-called tourist traps that caught his eye. He had a lot of catching up to do, after all. Tony was witty and intelligent and generally a joy to be around (and it didn't at all hurt that he was easy on the eyes). And Tony seemed to feel the same, inviting him to dinner whenever he was free, or to the numerous events that Tony Stark was obligated to attend simply for being Tony Stark. Janet van Dyne, a petite, spirited woman with iridescent hummingbird wings and one of Tony's very good friends, seemed delighted at this. 

"You would not believe how difficult it is to get him to come to his own functions," she pouted to him one evening, nearly a year following the ice, looking spectacular in a shimmering navy blue cocktail dress. She seemed genuinely impressed, wings flitting a few times almost too fast for his eyes to see. They were off chatting by the open bar as Steve watched Tony out of the corner of his eye. He was getting more wasted by the minute - he was just drinking straight from a bottle of champagne at this point - and had an arm wrapped around a robust woman with sparrow wings and rotund cleavage protruding from a too-small dress. A lump formed in Steve's throat, and he swallowed and forced his attention back to Janet. "Even when I make him new suits! He must really think you're something special. It's been a while since he's stepped out with someone for this long." She flicked the sleeve of Steve's jacket. "Well, you do look lovely in a tux, even if it's as bland as this one."

Steve blinked, then gave a puzzled smile, his wings rubbing together nervously. "Ah. Uh. Miss van Dyne, Tony's a swell guy, but we're just friends, that's all. Honest!" he added, holding up his hands defensively when Janet just shot him a sideways look. 

"If you say so. You two must be awful good friends. Anyway, I told you to call me Jan! Any friend of Tony's is a friend of mine..."

: : :

Now that- that got Steve thinking a little too much for his own good. It just reared up in his face all of the sudden: he really did like Tony. And things were different now. But. He was certain Tony wasn't into men. He loved women, talked about them all the time. Talked about her legs, her breasts, her stunning personality when Steve reminded him he was being a total sleeze. He wasn't interested in men. And now, each time Steve saw him, he realized he wanted to be the one Tony talked about like that. He wanted his lust, his compliments, his appraising gaze. His desire began as a slow burn, then quickly bellowed into something approaching the rage of a forest fire. 

He thought it would be better if he didn't see Tony for a while. 

: : :

He did have friends other than Tony. He'd met Sam Wilson at his local VA group and they'd hit it off immediately.  Sam was clever and always had this mischievous sparkle in his eye that meant he could be counted on for all kinds of good and sometimes vaguely illegal fun. His wings were powerful and large, that of a red-tailed hawk. He and Steve often went flying together, as they were doing now.

On this occasion, they went to the flight reserve just outside New York City, catching the thermals up into the air and laughing as they showed off various tricks; at one point Sam flew loops around Steve before dropping into a straight dive and pulling up at the last moment, whooping loudly. After that, they fell into a sort of reverie, almost like meditation, not talking, just doing what their bodies felt best. Steve thought his eyes slipped close several times. 

Usually when he was in this state of mind, Steve didn't think, instead concentrating on the sensory; the fresh scent of pine needles, the taste of the cool evening air, the sensation of the wind pushing through his feathers. This time around, however, he couldn't get Tony out of his thoughts.

They hadn't hung out in a couple of weeks. It was killing Steve to have to turn down each and every one of Tony's offers, though he didn't seem angry or suspicious so much as increasingly disappointed. Steve felt like a total coward, but he didn't know how else to deal with this aching want that was starting to consume his mind and body other than to ignore it, shun it from his life, and he couldn't do that when he was around Tony. God, he _wanted_ -

"Woah, man!" Steve was startled out of his haze by a barking laugh from Sam. He started and realized he had swooped upside down underneath Sam, their bellies almost touching. It was a move that was famously common to courting flights. He swallowed a surprised squawk and pulled away hurriedly, righting himself in the air. Sam raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him. "Courting season's a little ways away, man. And you're cute, honest, but..."

"I was thinking about- something else," Steve muttered, voice hardly audible above the wind. Still, Sam caught it, and he cackled with delight, drawing closer. 

"No shit! You gotta tell me all about 'em - details!"

"You'll have to catch me first!" Steve hollered over the wind, giving no warning before falling into a dive.

"Dirty cheat!" Sam shouted before darting after him in hot pursuit. 

: : :

_you know if you don't want to hang out with me anymore, you can just tell me. I get it._

Steve blinked down at the text message, licking his lips. He had known this would come up eventually, but that didn't make him any more prepared to deal with it. 

_It's not that Tony.._

_Really? what is it then_

_I got some stuff.. I'm working thru it._

_Stuff_

Steve threw himself back on his bed, sighing in frustration. This wasn't fair to Tony at all, and he knew it. He held his phone above his head for a few minutes, just staring at the blinking cursor. 

_I promise it has nothing to do with you, Tony.. It's just something I need to work out myself.. . I just need some time from people for a bit, thats all.._

_which is why you were out flying with wilson i suppose_

Steve's mouth fell open. _Are you spying on me????_

_Steve. youre captain america. everywhere u go there is going to be at least 200 pics on twitter_

_Oh_

Then he scowled at the screen.  _Ok.. First of all, who I spend time with isn't your business. Second of all.. are you jealous??_

Several minutes passed, and Steve grew increasingly anxious that he'd overstepped. Then- 

 _maybe_ _  
_

Seconds later-

_problem?_

Steve smiled in spite of himself.  _You're a troll._

Then he added,  _Ok.. Policing who I hang out with, not okay with me. But I realize I've been a bit unfair to you for these past couple weeks, and I need to get over it.. I can't tell you about it, though, and I just need you to trust me on that. Ok?_

There was a slight delay in Tony's next reply.  _ok deal_

Then,  _lunch tmrrw?? i want chinese food_

Steve laughed quietly up at the screen.  _Give me the address and I'll be there.._

_ok cool. also i have this cool idea i wanna talk to you about and ur not allowed to say no ok. ok cool bye_

_Tony!!_

: : :

Tony's idea turned out to be moving the Avenger's into his parents' mansion.

It came to fruition several months later. Steve gazed up at the towering labyrinth of a house, speechless, feathers puffing up slightly.

 "Awesome, right?" Tony's voice echoed as he led them into the massive entrance hall with a sweeping marble staircase. The front door was _voice activated._  "I've been doing renovations on it for a few years now, since this whole hero-ing business started. Was going to lend it out for something else if there was a better location for a base, but considering this is in the center of NYC, I can't really think of a better place."

"Damn. This is sweet," Sam whistled as he tilted his head back to consider the colossal crystal chandelier dangling above their heads. "That might be a safety hazard, though." 

"It's reinforced," Tony said airily, waving his hand. 

"Kitchen?" Jan asked, wings fluttering excitedly. "I'm starving." 

"Follow me. Anyway, uh, there are more than enough rooms for all of the Avengers on the roster right now, so if anyone ever feels like living in a prime spot in New York and not paying rent, there's always a room open. There's also training-- Steve?"

Steve had grabbed his arm. " _Tony_ ," he said fiercely, and Tony looked rather frightened until he continued, "Tony, this is incredible. That you would do all of this and just invite us to live here for free- you're incredible." The tips of his ears went rather hot, but he was being completely honest. 

Tony- melted, almost, gaze going soft and liquid. If Steve hadn't known him better he might have said he was somewhat flushed. "Aw, Cap. That's-- really sweet of you," he murmured, reaching up to pat Steve's hand. Steve wanted to kiss him. He was five seconds away from kissing him, right here, in front of five other Avengers--

Hank cleared his throat loudly, blue feathers oddly ruffled. "I'd like to know where the kitchen is as well." Steve wasn't sure if he wanted to thank him or throttle him.

"R-right. Right! This way." Tony led on. "After that we can head on up to the flight landing..."

: : :

It was strange, that Steve could know Tony for as long as he did, could be one of his closest friends, and not realize that Tony was not nearly as confident as he seemed. That Tony had a drinking problem. 

Steve had just wandered up to his quarters to see if he wanted to train with him for a little while. It was late afternoon going on evening and he was bored and a little lonely, and when he got in moods like this not even his sketchbook could keep him company.

Tony didn't answer his knocks, so he just let himself in under the assumption that Tony wouldn't mind. He usually didn't. "Tony?" Steve called out softly when he didn't see him. 

"Steve!" Tony crowed cheerily from where he was slumped all the way down on the couch that was facing away from the door, towards the floor-to-ceiling window that spanned the opposite wall. The sun was hovering low over the cityline, skyscrapers casting long shadows over the gardens of the mansion that the window looked out over. As Steve rounded the couch, he was immediately accosted by the overpowering stench of alcohol. There was a near-empty bottle of scotch hanging from Tony's fingers. 

"Tony," Steve replied after a moment, startled. He'd never seen Tony like this before, not once in his five years of knowing him. "What are you doing?" 

"Oh, you know," Tony said breezily, flapping a hand in Steve's direction. "Enjoying the show." Over the gardens, there was a young couple engaged in what looked to be a courting flight. The sun gleamed off their sleek groomed feathers as their bodies neared one another. Tony sniffled loudly, and Steve peered down at his face, alarmed. "Must be nice," he was muttering, tears dripping down his cheeks. He didn't bother to wipe them away. "Not being a fucking freak." Steve flinched. Tony turned misty, not-quite-focused blue eyes on Steve, then past Steve, at his wings, which were pulled in close to his body with tension. "Did, did you know I'll never be able to court anyone like that? No one wants a freak who can't- can't fly-" 

He was sobbing quite heavily now, the bottle slipping from his fingers and to the carpet with a muffled _thunk_. Steve was overwhelmed, unsure of what to do. "Oh, Tony," he whispered, kneeling in front of him and gently taking one of his hands. "Come on, you know that's not true. And you have the armor..."

"It's not real," Tony sobbed even harder. Steve cursed himself; he was awful at this sort of thing at the worst of times. "It's not real, it'll never be how it's supposed to be- I can feel them all laughing at me behind my back, got no wings, got no wings-" 

"No one's laughing at you, Tony" Steve cut in firmly, resting his hands on Tony's shoulders. "I think you're brilliant. Hell, you are brilliant!"

Tony hiccuped and raised his head, regarding Steve with glistening red-rimmed eyes. "You're lying," he mumbled, a hand coming up to grab at Steve's forearm, but he didn't make to pull him away, just let his hand rest there. 

"Hey. You've said it yourself, Captain America doesn't lie," Steve said quietly. That earned him a watery giggle. 

"Mmm. Give me my bottle?" Tony asked, making grabby hands at the floor.

"It's empty. I think we should go to bed now," Steve said. Something about that made Tony just pause and look at him.

"Okay," he said softly, extending his arms. Steve pulled him up and slung one of his arms over his shoulders, slowly guiding him to his room. Tony was limp and uncooperative as he steered him towards his bed, but he at least undressed himself and drank the glass of water Steve gave him. Steve politely didn't stare at his nakedness, no matter how much he wanted to, keeping his gaze fixed on Tony's faced as he tucked him into the covers. He had planned to stay just outside the door, not wanting to overstay his welcome but also not wanting Tony to suffocate on his own vomit. When he made to flick the light switch off and leave, however, Tony made a shrill noise of distress. 

"I thought you were staying with me," he whispered in a small, broken voice.

"I am, I am," Steve said hastily, moving for the leather armchair in the corner of the room, but Tony made another noise and patted the bed beside him. 

"Sit here," he demanded, words slurring together so that it sounded more like "Si'ere." Steve gave hesitant smile and complied after a moment, removing his shoes and sitting down beside Tony, cross-legged.

"Can I touch your wings," Tony asked softly, so softly that Steve almost didn't hear him. Steve wavered, then turned and lay down the length of the bed, resting on his hip and propping his torso up with his elbow. He spread his wings slowly.

Despite the state he was in, Tony's touch was surprisingly gentle. He slowly stroked his fingertips down the shafts of the individual feathers, then smoothed the vanes together with the oils of his fingers. He was _grooming_ Steve- generally a very intimate act reserved only for the dearest of friends. Or lovers. It was incredibly soothing, and Steve found himself dosing off, losing time. He drifted in and out, lips parting when strong hands sought out the bases of his wings and began to knead at the muscle. 

Eventually Tony fell asleep and those hands went limp. Steve was about to pass out himself- before he did, though, he smoothed Tony's hair back out of his face, reached over to turn off the lamp on the bedside table, and settled down on his side. He fell asleep above the covers.

: : :

Steve was infinitely glad when Tony joined AA and swore off drinking, cold-turkey, even if he knew that it wouldn't be so easy as that. He didn't bring up that night, and Tony seemed content to keep it that way. 

: : :

New York City was entering its sixth courting season since Steve had awoken from the ice, and he was more restless during this one that ever. He ached for Tony in a way that was beyond bone deep, but he would rather seal that ache away than risk the strong, secure bond that they shared now. 

Still. He was restless.

He found Tony in his workshop, tinkering with something that didn't look overly important. "Tony?" he called in way of greeting. Tony raised his head, a grin tugging at his lips. He set aside the- whatever it was and spun his chair around, clapping his hands together like a delighted child. 

"What's up, Winghead?"

Steve grinned back. "Shellhead. Was wondering if you wanted to go for a stroll in the park, just for half an hour or so. We've all been cooped up lately, I think you could use the air just as much as me."

Tony's smile faltered, and Steve wilted a bit inside. "Well. You know. It's kind of a hectic time of year," Tony said lightly. They still hadn't spoken of the- drinking incident, thought Tony had become a bit more frank, he supposed it was, with Steve afterwards. About things like  _feelings_ , which Tony normally acted like he was allergic to. 

"Nowhere near courting grounds," Steve pleaded. "The trees are so pretty in Central Park, with all the leaves turning..." It was unfair of him, but he was itching inside his skin, he needed to get out and he wanted Tony to come with him. So made his best puppy dog face, pouting out his lips and all. Tony threw up his hands, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation.

"Fine," he grouched. "I guess I'll go-" he gave an overdramatic shudder- " _outside_."

"You are looking awful pasty," Steve teased, causing Tony to grumble at him.

"So deeply wounded. I'll have you know I'm still in the running for World's Sexiest Man." I wouldn't doubt it for a second, Steve replied in the privacy of his own mind. 

He dressed as warmly as he could while still having full mobility of his limbs, complete with an obnoxious bright red puffy jacket. Tony dressed- more warmly that usual, Steve supposed, in a charcoal peacoat and dark slacks, as well as a crimson scarf and matching gloves, but judging by the way his teeth were chattering after being outside for a full five minutes, his outfit was more stylish than it was functional. "At least I'm pretty," he griped when Steve told him as much, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

"It's only just autumn and it's already this chilly," Steve murmured once they had reached the park, fallen leaves crunching beneath their feet. His breath fogged in the frigid air. 

"I can't believe you would make an old man like me suffer through such grueling conditions," Tony whined through his scarf. 

"You're such a baby," Steve snorted. "Exercise is good for you."

"Yes, mother," Tony sighed in a long-suffering manner, kicking at a pile of leaves. His shoulders hunched a minute later as a pair of winged shadows sped along the ground, passing over both him and Steve. "Trees are pretty," he noted absently as they trudged on, nodding at the golden leaves. Steve hardly heard him. His wings were twitching, shivering, aching to spread. He stopped abruptly, a sudden revelation hitting him like a sack of bricks.

"Steve? What's- mmf!" From one second to the next, Steve had crowded Tony up against the nearest tree and kissed him soundly on the lips. Tony froze for a moment before he sort of melted against Steve, hands settling on his waist. He pushed back into the kiss, even parting his lips slightly to allow Steve's tongue to dart inside. But then he pulled back and turned his face away, expression pained. "Steve, no," he mumbled. " I can't."

"Are you saying that because you don't want me, or because you don't have wings?" Steve mumbled against his lips. "Tony, I don't care if you don't have wings." 

Tony turned his gaze back to him and squinted. "You don't care," he said carefully, as if he were speaking a foreign language. Steve nodded. "I- What if I care? Too much?" he ended in a whisper.

"Then we move on," Steve murmured sadly. "But- oh, Tony. Won't you just give it a chance? One date, or two. That's all I'm asking. Then you can tell me to fuck off." 

Amazingly, Tony laughed. It was a hopeless little laugh. "Another kiss first," he whispered, coaxing Steve's mouth open with his tongue. Steve happily complied. 

: : :

The first time they tumbled into bed was long after courting season had ended, and Steve no longer had to assure Tony that his desire to be with him wasn't just a volatile cocktail of hormones addling his brain. But Tony hadn't run away, so Steve didn't plan on letting him go. 

It was slow and tender, that first time, Steve easing Tony back onto the sheets, wings unfurling slowly, surely. Tony studied them warily. (It had taken Steve some time to realize that Tony was afraid of his own jealousy more than anything else.) "What sort are these?" he asked as he rubbed himself against Steve's thigh, swelling up thick and hard. His hand came up to stroke curiously at the feathers. 

"Mourning dove," Steve murmured, before capturing Tony's mouth in a slick hot kiss. 

"Mmm. That suits you. Steve Rogers, the most melancholy man to grace our- f-fair earth," Tony gasped, coming up for air as he grabbed hold of Steve's cock, pumping it.

"Incorrigible," Steve breathed back, spine bowing with pleasure.

They came together still half-naked, Steve's eyes crossing and his wings flapping powerfully as he spilled across Tony's stomach and felt wet heat splatter against his thigh. He only just managed to clean the mess up with the proffered tissue before he drooped, body buzzing pleasantly. 

"Oof. God, you weigh a ton, get off," Tony grumbled, shoving at his head, but Steve was quite content to just lay on him, and Tony didn't put up any further objections. They dozed off for a while, Steve on the verge of sleep, before Tony startled him with a quiet question.

"Say. Don't suppose you...want to fly together, sometime," he said, hesitantly. Steve was silent for a moment, before his eyes crinkled around the corners as he broke into a soft-edged smile. 

"I'd like that," he murmured, pressing their lips together. "I'd love that."

: : :

Steve rode up into the air on the tail-end of a thermal, wings working powerfully to push his body higher, higher before he settled into a steady glide, enjoying the feeling of the wind in his feathers, stirring at his hair. 

Beside him, Tony leveled out as well, repulsors humming as he slowed to what was a snail's crawl for the armor's supersonic standards. The mask slid open with a click, and he smirked over at Steve. "Going a little slow, baby," he teased, smirk only widening when Steve flushed at the endearment. 

"Sometimes I like to take it slow," Steve said, very matter-of-factly. Of course, Tony practically melted, the big sap.

"Well, I suppose it's alright sometimes," he allowed, smirk softening into a smile that was warm and private. Their gazes finally settled on the sunset horizon as they flew up, up over the city. They were going home.  


End file.
